


Twin Sized American Dream

by vintage_sherlock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Memories, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Season/Series Finale, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage_sherlock/pseuds/vintage_sherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories of Dean’s 18-year-old smile and hours of driving on burning-hot highway blacktop heal Sam's broken heart like the touch of a saint. Sam and Dean grew up in what seems to have been a caricature of small town United States, and thinking of that time is the only thing left that Sam has that makes him happy. </p>
<p>Post season 9 finale Sam</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twin Sized American Dream

**Author's Note:**

> "Be my drunkest nights blackout peaceful sleep  
> Be my memories I wish I could keep  
> Be my change, don't change a thing."
> 
> -Dads, "Boat Rich"

Sam is only happy when he thinks of the past that he and Dean shared together. Like a knife, the thought of reality feels as if it’s ripping white-hot slits into his flesh and insides. Losing Dean is equivalent to losing a limb, Sam thinks. Phantom pains and all.

Dean is living, Sam supposed, but not actually. He is only a body. A walking corpse that houses a monster is the only remnant left of “Dean” that Sam can find. If Dean was alive, he wouldn’t abandon his life to run off with Crowley, and he sure as hell wouldn't leave Sam in the bunker to rot amongst the dusty latin books and soured whiskey bottles. Yet, that’s exactly what Sam finds himself doing. Surrounded by the yellowing pages of hunting books and half-drunk bottles of booze, he sits with wet eyes and a blank stare. Taking a large inhale of the stale air, Sam remembers something and actually smiles to himself briefly. He pictures the summer going into sixth grade, sitting on a bare motel mattress by himself, waiting for Dean to get back “home” from the convenience store across the street so he wouldn't be alone anymore.

_Get used to Dean being gone, bud_ , Sam thinks to himself, sighing and taking another burning swallow of his drink.

As he thinks about the days of traveling with his father and Dean across the US, the gashes slashed through his heart by the pain of his recent years feel as if they’re being sewn up. Memories of Dean’s 18-year-old smile and hours of driving on burning-hot highway blacktop heal him like the touch of a saint. Sam and Dean grew up in what seems to have been a caricature of small town United States.

Their home was a collage made up of eighteen years on the road. Some of the fondest memories Sam had took place in dusty gas stations with broken Pepsi machines out front, trailer park Fourth of July parties, and forgotten graveyards with angel statues to keep he and Dean company while dad dug up a grave. Hanging out in some smoky bar during the day so often that the owner would introduce Dean to his cheap looking daughter were like family reunions, and parking lots of shit-hole motels were like the backyard of a picket fenced house that the two of them never had.

With memories of the impala's backseat and Dean's too-loud singing voice during car rides fresh in his mind, Sam slips away from the book covered dining room table and decides to sleep in Dean's room for the night. He doesn't sleep in there often because the covers still smell of him, and Sam wants to keep it that way. He ignores the barren walls leading up to what he considers his heaven, his room where the sedation of the present finally can settle in for tonight, and falls into the bed that his brother used to inhabit. 

Closing his eyes, Sam thinks of twin motel beds next to one another. One for him, and one for Dean. If he was lucky, John would be in another room or on a hunt. He used to pretend to have a bad dream to wake Dean up and ask to comfort him, which usually lead to Dean lifting his covers and motioning Sam into his touch. But right now, Sam is thinking of when Dean would just sneak into Sam's bed while Sam pretended to sleep. He would just gently push the locks of Sam's hair out of his eyes and rub his back, sore from the day's training and growing pains, lay there for a while, and move into his own bed. They'd wake up in the morning, Dean pretending like he didn't do anything, and Sam pretending that he didn't feel Dean's clothed and hard dick on his back as he lay the night before. 

Sam dozes off like that, hoping he won't have to wake up in the morning without Dean, and knowing that is exactly what will happen anyway. 


End file.
